A State of Anger
by Lyon.The.Demon
Summary: When a killer in a psychotic break suddenly wrecks havoc in Fredericksburg, Virginia, the BAU is called in to profile a seemingly random UnSub who continues to remain at large. But what happens when Reid figures out what the team has missed all along?
1. Danger

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**A State Of** **Anger**

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_Disclaimer : I Own Nothing, No Matter How Much I May Whine And Beg And Plead To The Real Owners Of Criminal Minds, Nor Do I Make Any Profit From Any Of The Stories I Have Posted Here._

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"The defects and faults of the mind are like wounds in the body. After all imaginable care has been taken to heal them up, still there will be a scar left behind."

- Francois de la Roche Foucauld

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_Walking alone was something Winston Turstone loved to do all the time. In fact, you could even call walking Winston's favorite pastime. It was very foggy out this morning, but that didn't matter to him; the thrill of not being fully able to see where you were headed was one of Winston's games. Loving to get lost to find his way back home was the best thing ever to his 23 year old mind. After all, it wasn't like there was anything awaiting his return at home; nothing but an empty house and a broken home of two years. Kicking at a small stone on the pathway, Winston quickly blocked out all thoughts of his ex-wife and returned his gaze to the white haze in front of him._

_But strangely enough, a figure started to form out of the fog, and the closer he came, the more he could see. It was a woman, and she was sitting on the side of the road, leaning with her back against the tree, staring out at nothing. His brows furrowing, Winston walked up to the woman and looked down at her, saying softly,_

"_Are you alright, Miss?"_

_When no answer came, he tilted his head and crouched down, saying again,_

"_Miss?"_

_Something wasn't right, Winston thought to himself, looking over the woman. She was clothed in a tight, grey, sweatshirt-like hoodie. She was wearing tight blue jeans and… army boots? Odd, Winston thought, then crouching down just a little further, trying to meet the eyes of the woman._

"_Ma'am, are you alright?"_

_But he caught the red liquid on her hands just a second to late, his eyes widening as the woman suddenly looked up, staring into his eyes._

_Those strange, turquoise eyes were the last things he saw before unforgiving hands were wrapped around his throat._

~ * * * ~

Reid could hear Morgan chuckling in the background, but he gave him no notice, simply continuing to rearrange the pink and purple carnations that had just arrived on his desk. It made his heart clench up, even as it made him smile to know that Amy continued to send him flowers from wherever she was. And as always, there was a small white card stuck in the arrangement that simply read,

_ - Vaughn_

Smiling slightly, Reid continued to play with the flowers as he pretended to rearrange them still, wondering exactly where she was now, and what progress she must have made. But of course, that warm feeling was never to last in the BAU unit in Quantico, Virginia. Reid noticed J.J. moving through the glass doors into the bullpen, a brown case file in hand, her face grim. She didn't need to say a word for Morgan and Reid to know what was up. Giving one last look at the carnations, Reid followed Morgan, who had already moved past him into the round-table room; the one J.J. had just disappeared into.

* * *

"Fredericksburg's called us in to help them profile a strange occurrence for them." J.J. turned around to the screen and clicked a button on the small remote she was holding, bringing up several pictures of different people of different races, different ages and different gender. "Twenty two people dead in two weeks."

J.J. then proceeded to place brown case files in front of all the agents gathered around the table.

"There seems to be no discrimination in these kills, almost as if they were completely at random. The last kill was a male, twenty-three years old, last seen by his neighbor at six this morning, leaving his apartment. He was strangled to death approximately seven miles from said apartment."

"Is strangulation the main cause of death?" Hotch asked, leafing through the files and pictures J.J. had placed in front of him, and as her answer, she turned back around to the screen and pressed another button, several crime scene photos coming up.

"I think it would be fairly safe to say that there is no true murder weapon. We have some who were strangled, yes, but there are stab wounds that were the primary cause of death on others, some were bludgeoned to death with some sort of blunt object, a few were even drowned, and one was pushed off a bridge into rocks at least thirty feet below."

"How do we knew that last guy didn't jump?" Morgan asked, and J.J. shook her head.

"The police that called us in said they interviewed the parents of the kid, and they said he'd never had any suicidal tendencies. He'd never been that much of a dare devil or a risk taker; that he always walked the straight and narrow. Never the kind to make enemies, either."

Prentiss's brows furrowed as she then said,

"That doesn't make much sense, though." with a look to the others, she continued. "Strangulation, stabbing, bludgeoning, drowning… they're all hands on ways of killing someone. This guy likes to be close to his kills and feel the life leave their body. So why… why push someone over the edge of a bridge?"

"It seems to me the M.O. is constantly changing. Maybe this dude just wanted to try something new." Morgan offered, but Gideon shook his head, having been silent until now.

"No, I agree with Prentiss. It's not the same pattern. This UnSub wants hands on ways of dying, but what if he didn't have the time? Maybe the victim that fell wasn't supposed to be a victim. Maybe he was just in the way, that the UnSub was running from someone else and pushed the victim out of the way."

Hotch then shook his head, standing up.

"Whatever the reason was, he's dead and there's a rising possibility there's more bodies on the way. This UnSub is possibly in a psychotic break and we need to get to him as fast as possible. Wheels up in twenty."

And without another word, Hotch left the room, leaving the rest of them to look amongst each other and clean up the files, gathering everything they would need for the short trip to Fredericksburg, Virginia.

* * *

Something wasn't adding up…

Reid sat in the back of the SUV, looking over the files and the photos, his brain taking in everything again, and again, and again. There had to be something they were all missing here… So many bodies, so little time… Every different gender, race, age, height, weight, every difference you could think of they were here. There was no specific reason for the killings, either. Some of them came from wealthy families, ones with families who'd miss them dearly and worry immensely, and those without families or friends of any kind. Those who wouldn't be missed. Some with high paying jobs, some with low paying jobs, low class, high class, no job, working full time…

It was a mess!

A psychotic break, Gideon had called it. It sure had the footprints of a psychotic break, but the kills were precise. As if they'd been done over and over, or at least played out several times in the UnSub's head. They were part pre-meditated, part impulsive. That had to mean that the UnSub was between the ages of twenty and thirty, since there was very little evidence of the recklessness of adolescence, even though there was still some there. The UnSub had to have a type of serious mental illness, probably having been on medication but been taken off recently for one reason or another…

But even through all this instant profiling, Reid still felt like he was missing something… Something important….

Reid's head snapped up from the files as he felt the SUV slowing down and turning into the Fredericksburg Police Station, and he quickly closed it, taking a deep breath and licking his lips in an unconscious gesture of nervousness. A crazed UnSub was on the loose and they would each need to stay close together while they were here. So far the UnSub was simply targeting people who were alone, but who knew when this kind of psychotic break would escalate…?

_A/N : Alrighty! I figured since I was so close to finishing my other story, Scars, I'd go ahead and start on that sequel I promised all of you loyal fans out there who enjoyed reading my earlier story, A State Of Mind. I do hope you enjoy reading this one as well, and believe me, as soon as the words flow from my fingers, you'll have your next chapter update. In the meantime, don't forget to review, as they are greatly appreciated! Thanks a million, all!_

_- Lyon_


	2. The Discovery

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_Her hands were shoved deeply in her black denim coat pockets. A grey hood was pulled over her head and tight black jeans disappeared into black army boots. Her head was down and every now and again, she'd fidget, her head swiveling as though she was keeping a look out for someone._

_Rubbing his head, Nick Carter understood why she might feel so nervous, being out this late at night and with a killer on the loose? He watched as took her soda and candy bar from the cashier after giving him a few bucks and asking him to keep the change. Quickly paying for his own soda, Nick rushed up to the woman before she could get too far away from him. He caught up to her around the side of the building, and called after her._

"_Hey, miss, wait!"_

_The woman paused, allowing Nick to jog up to her and catch his breath before saying,_

"_You shouldn't be walking the streets alone, you know. Where do you live? I'll walk you home."_

_The woman fidgeted for a few more seconds before brushing past him, further into the darkness, saying softly,_

"_I'll be fine…"_

_Shaking his head, Nick made a grab for her arm._

"_Ma'am, wait,"_

_But the second his hand grabbed her arm, causing the woman to turn around and face him, all hell broke loose._

_~ * * * ~_

"Hello, I'm agent Jareau, we spoke on the phone earlier." J.J. said to what appeared to be the chief of police.

The large man smiled through his thick black mustache and took the hand she offered, saying politely,

"Assistant Chief Larry Bordeau. Good to finally meet you."

"This is SSA Hotchner and SSA Gideon, Agents Prentiss, Morgan, and Dr. Reid." J.J. said, gesturing to the rest of the team, then watching as Larry took the hands of Gideon and Hotch before turning back to the group as a whole.

"I thank you all for coming in so soon, we really need your help. I don't know what to do, or how to catch this guy."

"Well, that's why you called us in. Do you have somewhere we could set up?" Prentiss asked, and Bordeau nodded his head, turning around and pointing to a large room in the back.

"I had my boys clean and clear it out as soon as I got word you were on your way."

"That's good. Do you think you could gather all the information on the kills and have them brought to us A.S.A.P.?" Hotch asked, following the group toward the conference room they'd be using for the next however many days it took to track down the UnSub.

"They're already in there, on the table." Larry said, and Hotch nodded in answer.

They entered the room just seconds later, only to find files upon files stacked around the table. Stunned, Prentiss turned around to look at Larry, but Reid cut her off before she could even start to ask any questions.

"Fredericksburg has asked for BAU help a few times before; they… know our ways, what we look for, what we need to get started. It's helpful in situations like these where we need to be fast. The last two serial killers we found and caught for them were the typical white male, but even though the accepted stereotype of American serial killers is that they are disproportionately likely to be white and male, there have been exceptions, so this time may be different.

"Noted female serial killers have included Aileen Wuornos , Myra Hindley , and a certain Erzsébet Báthory… The white male stereotype is very deceptive, however, since white males are less likely to be serial killers than male Hispanics or male blacks. African Americans make up 12 percent of the American population but 22% of serial killers and Hispanics roughly the same. Whites make up around 75% of the population but only 55% of all serial killers making whites proportionately less likely to be serial killers."

Silence reigned before Hotch shook his head, and answered the questioning look Larry was throwing him.

"He's our human dictionary."

"I-I have an eidetic memory, that doesn't make me a dictionary…!" Reid argued, but Morgan clapped him on the back, a grin lighting up his face.

"Don't worry about it kid, just take it as a compliment."

"Y-yeah, a compliment…" Reid muttered, but his statement went unnoticed as Gideon stepped forward, looking sternly at Larry.

"We need to figure this UnSub out quickly. We'll go over everything you've given us and try to give you a profile as soon as possible. Until then, could you show me to where the last body was found?"

"Sure, I can have one of the officer's show you up to-" but Larry never got to finish his sentence, for another man, dressed in typical police uniform suddenly ran up to where the seven of them stood, catching his breath before saying in a rush,

"Sir, there's been another murder…! Just off Parkinson's Avenue, behind the CVS store…!"

Turning grimly to the BAU agents, Larry said softly,

"Looks like you'll get to see a more recent body, huh…?"

* * *

The blue and red of the police lights lit up the alleyway behind the drugstore, even though the lights of the store weren't that far away. And if not for the police lights, Reid thought with a small shudder, this area would have been almost completely pitch black. The perfect place to murder someone without being noticed; the UnSub had to have thought it through…

Biting his lip, Reid was absolutely sure that there was something they were missing. Moving forward, his plastic gloves already pulled on his hands, Reid crouched down to examine the body a bit closer. Severe bruises on the neck were sure signs of harsh strangulation, bruises on the arms and shoulders were signs of a struggle…

But that was wrong…

Reid noticed that the victim's eyes were closed. Looking up quickly, his brown eyes sought out those of the assistant chief's before asking,

"Did anyone who came upon the body touch it, tamper with it, in anyway at all?"

"Uh, not to my knowledge, why?"

Reid's brows furrowed a bit more.

"Did any of your officer's tamper with the scene?"

"They most certainly did not." Larry said, a bit indignantly, Reid's questions starting to ruffle his figurative feathers.

Hotch caught this, but knew that his youngest member wouldn't ask those kind of questions without reason, and so Hotch moved over to Reid, crouching down beside him and asking in a low tone,

"What did you find?"

His brows still furrowed deeply, Reid pointed out the victim's eyes.

"They're closed. But he was strangled to death, and victims of strangulation always end up dying with their eyes… open."

And then Hotch's brows were furrowed as well. Reid knew his dilemma, however. First off, you had an UnSub that seemed to kill indiscriminately; without rhyme or reason. Secondly, this UnSub kills quickly and efficiently, as if he'd done it before; yet there are definite signs of a psychotic break if you look for them. And now… the UnSub is showing remorse?

An act of sudden anger…

And remorse afterward…

Somewhere in Reid's large brain, alarm bells were ringing loudly, but for what reason, Reid couldn't pinpoint just yet. He knew that this was something he should remember; something that was extremely important… but he couldn't put his finger on it…

Dimly, Reid was aware of Hotch standing up and moving back to the rest of the group and relaying the detail Reid had found, but Reid continued to crouch by the body, slowly reaching forward to open the victim's eyes.

And then his heart was set to pounding.

It couldn't be; it just couldn't…

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"I didn't have anything against them, and they never did anything wrong to me, the way other people have all my life. Maybe they're just the ones who have to pay for it."

- Perry Smith

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_A/N : Alright! I know all of you have probably figured out already who's doing the killing, but poor Reid, having to find out that way, huh? Don't forget to review, as I wait eagerly for each and every one! And yes, for those of you so loyally following the story Scars, the final chapter should be up sometime later tonight. Have fun!_

_- Lyon_


	3. Profiles Are Sometimes Wrong

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_Shivering, Amy Vaughn continued walking down the deserted sidewalk, her hands in her pockets and her head hanging low. This couldn't keep happening… She knew it as sure as she knew she breathed clean air; she needed help. But where could she find it? The last place she tried, Danny had been there. Danny had been breathing down her shoulder, his hands roaming forcefully over her body, trying to yank her shirt away from her death grip while she stared in fear at him…_

_Shaking her head, Amy tried to get her mind off the failed trip to the last institution. But of course, memories were not to be kept down this night, and she found her head filled with attempts to visit doctors offices, psychiatric offices; she'd even tried therapy. Nothing seemed to work; everywhere she went, Phillip and Danny followed her, waiting to remind her of what she just wanted to keep in the back of her mind._

_She could hear the sirens behind her._

_Shaking, Amy continued to move as fast as she could without running down the sidewalk, knowing that if they caught her, something terrible would happen. Oh god, she would let Gideon down if she was caught… And Reid…_

_Sweet… gentle… Reid… how disappointed he would be at her…_

_Finally stopping on the sidewalk, Amy let her head hang lower as she closed her eyes, her thoughts then turning to Reid. What would he think when they caught her? IF they caught her… How many people had she already killed? Four…? Five…? Enough for the BAU to be called in, she was sure… Feeling tears well up in her eyes, Amy was startled when she heard a female voice from behind her, saying softly, timidly,_

"_Miss…? Are you okay…? What are you doing out this late at night…?"_

_Turning around and lifting her head, Amy was just about to give the nice woman a smile and tell her that she was fine, that she'd get going right now, but suddenly her vision clouded._

_There was no woman standing in front of her._

_It was Phillip, sneering at her; glaring at her. Mocking her. He opened his mouth, and even though his mouth formed the words, the voice was once again of the woman's, but Amy didn't listen to it. How dare Phillip follow her even here! Something had to be done about this…_

_Amy never realized how quickly her hands lashed out at the woman, nor did she notice how tightly her hands were wrapped around the woman's throat. All she saw were ice blue eyes, staring back at her; mocking her from within._

~ * * * ~

It couldn't be true… it just couldn't…

Reid was in a state of denial as he finally stood up, having shut Nick's eyes. Reid shoved his hands into his pockets and moved slowly over to the rest of the team, who were talking in hushed tones away from the rest of the cops.

"All of these kills- well, almost all of the kills- have been hands-on. That means the UnSub has to be at least slightly strong or athletic." Morgan was saying.

"We now know this UnSub shows remorse, which puts a psychotic break at the back of the list, seeing as how an UnSub in a state like that wouldn't even know what he was doing to those people." Gideon said softly, his eyes moving from the scene around them to every member of the team before resting worriedly on Reid.

Reid was afraid his face would be paler than usual, giving what he had just figured out away, but he kept silent, and quickly turned to face Hotch as he then said a bit louder, letting the cops overhear him,

"We're ready to give a profile."

"Well that's good, cause we just found another body." an unknown voice suddenly called from the other side of the alleyway, causing the heads of the BAU team to snap up toward it.

* * *

"We believe this UnSub to be in his mid-to-late-twenties, fit and probably athletic." Hotch said, addressing the room full of police officers.

They had ridden back to the Fredericksburg Station after taking a swift look at the newest body. It had been female, and she'd been -nobody could have guessed- strangled to death.

"These kills seem to be at random, so it's probably caused by a feeling of insecurity or instability in his life. If you'll look in his background, he'll probably have had either one or both of the parents die, or the parents were divorced while he was at a young age. He'll have shown several tendencies toward a violent nature when he was smaller, such as killing or cruelty to animals." Prentiss continued, sitting down on the desk Hotch and Gideon were standing in front of.

"The people in this town probably know him, but they won't be surprised to find that he's the one we're looking for. They won't have any trouble believing what we're accusing him of. He stands out; probably works a menial job where he doesn't have too much contact with people." Gideon spoke up, his eyes searching out and meeting those of the officers before him.

"He shows a severe anger toward people he believes think they're better than him, and takes that anger out in a violent rage. He's intelligent; so far we haven't found any DNA or prints to link a certain person to these crimes, but his rages are explosive, and triggered with as little as a simple look. He's also devolving and getting braver at the same time. He's devolving because he's killing so quickly; there's barely any cooling down after each kill now. He's getting braver because he killed his second victim just blocks away from where police cars were gathered, his first kill already discovered. " Morgan said, leaning against the table, next to Prentiss.

Then J.J. spoke up, having been sitting down in a chair behind the table the BAU team was gathered around, saying quickly and loudly so everyone would hear her,

"This particular UnSub won't stop killing any time soon, because he can't. It's in his nature, and the only way to stop him is to catch him. We suggest holding a press conference to let the people know to stay off the streets for the time being. We don't really want to raise a panic with either the town's folk or the UnSub, but it's the best way to keep people safe from harm and throw the UnSub out of his comfort zone. Without a quick kill, the UnSub will likely escalate quickly and make a mistake, and we'll be able to catch him that way."

"Also, keep in mind this UnSub could very well be someone who recently moved back to this town for one reason or another, the most probable cause being a discharge from a job or a lost love or remaining family member. Keep your eyes pealed and please… I stress this, proceed with caution." Hotch then said, nodding his head at Bordeau, then closing softly, "That'll be all."

J.J. watched as the cops stand up and gather their notes, then exit the room along with Gideon and Hotch, who were deep in conversation, no doubt about the UnSub. Turning to her side, she looked at Reid, who had been quiet through this whole debriefing, when normally he was trying to prove his knowledge by giving statistics and information about other serial killers that related to the case they were doing. But not this time, for some reason. In fact, J.J. decided, her brows furrowing, Reid looked a bit paler than he normally did.

"You alright…?" she finally said, and was met with his chocolate brown eyes suddenly staring into hers almost fearfully before he calmed down and gave her a shaky smile.

"Yeah, just thinking."

"If you say so…" J.J. said reluctantly, but Reid had a feeling she didn't really believe him.

Hell, Reid thought to himself, if he were in her shoes, Reid wasn't sure he'd even believe himself. He knew he had to look like shit, but he just couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that almost everything in the murders pointed to Amy. But then again, he'd still need to check with Garcia; make sure his speculation wasn't too far fetched. After all, he'd only checked the eyes of two victims; Nick and Bertha, the woman who had been murdered not five blocks away from where they'd all stood around talking. And while they had both had icy blue eyes, that didn't really add up to Amy, because for all he knew, the rest of the victims could have green or brown or even violet eyes. At least the rest of the team were about as far off of Amy's mark as they could be...

Reid was then patted on the back, and looked up again to meet the blue eyes of J.J. once more.

"I have to go hold that press conference. You'll be alright, won't you?"

Reid's brows furrowed slightly at J.J.'s worried tone, but gave her another smile, hoping to god it was warmer than he felt.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I promise."

With a nod, J.J. left, leaving Reid alone in the small room, which startled him because he hadn't noticed Morgan or Prentiss leaving. Taking a deep breath then, Reid waited a few moments before reaching into his brown bag and pulling out his cell, flipping it open and dialing Garcia's number.

"_Oracle of Quantico, speak if you deign to hear truth." _came her usually cheerful quip.

"Yeah, Garcia… I need you to do me a favor."

"_Ooh, a favor. Sounds fun." _Garcia chuckled.

"Garcia, focus." Reid said, sighing.

* * *

"A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you, the less you know."

- Diane Arbus

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_A/N : Another chapter! Yay! Please review, so I know how I'm doing, alright? Thanks a million, my faithful fans!_

_ - Lyon_


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